


Loki's Copycat Adventures

by eag



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Au-esque, Character Death, Complicated Friendships, Dr. Bruce Banner or How I Learned to Quit Fearing and Eventually Deal with Loki, Drama, Fiction Meets Real Life, Gen, Humor, Loki Flouncing, Loki Loves Cats, Loki and Bruce's Excellent Adventure, Loki has a Genius Plan, M/M, Other, Roadtrip, Shenanigans, Snark, Stark Writes a Bestseller, everything is implied, schemes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eag/pseuds/eag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of sequel to The Vardøgr. Loki needs help.  Obviously.  But what are the consequences of helping him?  And what's up with that mustache?</p><p>Movieverse...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Bruce. I need your help.” Loki appeared in his kitchen with a suddenness that seemed to be less and less startling each time it happened.

“Excuse me?” Over the course of a year, Loki had been an on-and-off visitor to his home. Sometimes he would stay for only a few minutes or a few hours, sometimes for a few weeks. But this was the first time Loki had ever wanted anything specific from him and it made Bruce wary.

“I need your help.” Loki leaned against the doorframe. “I'm at my wit's end. I can't do this alone. But I think you can be the one that can help me fix this.”

“Look Loki, that's kind of vague, and I don't know what I could really help you with that's not related to gamma radiation research or how to grow tomatoes. Not that I'm really great at growing tomatoes. And I want to make it clear right now that I'm not helping you with anything radioactive.”

Loki brushed aside his concerns with a careless wave of his hand. “You recall the accident.”

“Accident? Oh, you mean with the Tesseract and the um. Copy?”

“Exactly. I have been trying very hard to clean up the unintended mess I made.”

“I thought you already took care of it.” An unpleasant memory of the past flashed through his mind, and Bruce shuddered. “Wasn't that what that summer was all about? Didn't you write a paper for your teacher? 'Who I killed over my summer vacation'?”

“Very funny, Bruce. Look, will you help me or not?”

“I don't know what I can do for you, but of course I'll listen to your problem.”

“I need to know if you can help me.” Loki looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Fine, fine. I'll help you as best as I can. But I refuse to hurt anyone or do anything illegal or do anything that I disagree too, even if I didn't cover it in this sentence.”

“You don't trust me.”

“I trust you. I don't trust tricksters.” 

Loki arched an eyebrow, but then nodded. It was good enough.

“Let me explain then. Recall that I had made a copy of myself, but because of the power of the Tesseract, more than one copy was made.”

“Yeah, I remember. Wait. I don't like where this is going...”

“There were more than just the two copies.”

“Exactly how many are you talking about?”

“I've been cleaning them up for almost two years now, with simple proximity. Most of them are barely shades, illusionary apparitions. But there were at least two that were well-formed enough to have lives of their own. One, you met.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“The other...is him.” Loki handed Bruce a glossy fashion magazine, and Bruce studied the cover closely, glancing up at Loki for reference.

“Well, sure, there's an uncanny resemblance if you discount things like hair color. But you know, it's statistically feasible-”

“I can show you all the biometric data. This person is me. Well, a copy of me.”

“And he's a model?”

“No, an actor. He's playing me in the movie adaptation of the attack of New York.”

“The movie adaptation of the...what? Uh, Loki...?”

“His name is Tom Hiddleston and you must help me get him back.”


	2. Chapter 2

Together, they sat on the couch and with a gesture like unfolding a book, Loki brought up a video display, floating before them. “I knew you would want proof. Here is what I have compiled.”

“May I?” Bruce gestured at the screen. 

“Please.”

Bruce scrolled through the data, skimming quickly. “Loki...I hate to say this to you, but he's been living on this planet his entire life. He was born here. He has parents and siblings, who are genetically related. Hell, he's even got a traceable genealogical lineage. There is no way he could be you.”

“And yet he is. It's the doing of the Tesseract.”

“Explain. No wait. It's because it's fourth-dimensional, isn't it?”

“Exactly.” Loki met his eyes. “The effect of the Tesseract's powers scattered copies of me throughout time and space, some fully-formed, some unformed. Fortunately, the effect seems to be contained to this realm.”

“Superposition,” Bruce muttered to himself. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Do you believe me now?”

“I guess it's plausible.” Bruce flipped through the data again. “Where did you get this biometric data?”

“Oh, it's not too hard these days. You should get out more, Bruce. You'll find the world's changed quite a bit since you went into hiding.” Loki leaned back on the couch so Lopt could climb onto his shoulder.

“How do I know this is accurate?” Bruce glanced at Loki. “I mean, suppose...” He paused, thoughtfully, watching Loki run his long fingers through Lopt's fur. “Let's just suppose that maybe you don't like the idea of a mortal pretending to be you, and you just want him out of the way...”

“Please, it's not a petty matter of wounded pride. Though who would be more suitable to play me than myself? I bear no grudge against this man's work; I just want him back. Missing parts of oneself is not exactly a pleasing state of existence, Bruce. You must understand that I too suffer in my own way.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound so...petty.”

“Apology accepted,” Loki said primly. “Now, as for your role-”

“That's what makes me curious.” Bruce sat back, folding his hands together. “What do you want me to do? I mean, you've got magic. You can do all sorts of other things that I don't know about. What do you need me for?”

“I need you to help me get close to him. Like I said, I need close proximity to him to get him back. And preferably without cameras or recording devices around. I don't want my brother or his little...friends to find out.”

“And you can't do this with magic?” Bruce gave him a skeptical look. “You haven't even tried?”

“I have. The results were...less than spectacular.”

“What did you do?” Bruce wondered at what Loki could have done to get close to the actor.

“First, to test his mettle, I matched wits with him on Twitter.”

“Twitter? You...”

“Yes, I battled him on Twitter. It's what people do these days. Honestly, Bruce, just because you never use it doesn't mean no one else does.” Loki waved dismissively. “Anyhow, then I had another opportunity - well, let me just show you. It's easier this way.” Loki drew the screen closer, and started a video.

“Why is it called 'Awkward Interview'—oh.” Bruce's jaw dropped. He cringed as he watched the video, embarrassed not only for the poor man who was subject to Loki's awkward manipulations, but embarrassed for Loki himself.

“And that's the closest I could get to him. I couldn't get close enough to reabsorb him.” 

“Loki! You scared the living daylights out of that poor man. What were you thinking?”

“That I look great under studio lights?”

“And why...did you change yourself to look like that?”

“I know myself. I have a penchant for blond hair.”

“Then why the Thor costume?”

“Must I spell it out for you?”

“Please don't.” Bruce covered his face with his hands. “You...you really thought that would work?”

“I underestimated him, or perhaps overestimated myself,” Loki shrugged. “Some combination. Besides, I wasn't really trying when that happened. It was just a test, to see how close I could get. The answer of course is, not close enough. The man is too professional to fall for cheap tricks. That's where you come in.”

“Loki, I'm not going to do anything like that.” Bruce was still stunned. Did the shape-shifted Loki really call herself a 'Thor fangirl' and offer to sleep with...what amounted to himself? What would that even be called?

“Of course not. It would be sheer foolishness. I would have you offer yourself as a consultant to their little film. They've been asking various members of the 'Avengers' to offer their services as experts, but to date, no one has accepted. Except for you, of course.”

“No. No way, Loki. You're my friend, but I'm not going back, and definitely not as some kind of...movie expert. I have my own work that I have to do and it's on a deadline.”

“Please, I know your research grant was just approved for three years. And that it rarely takes you longer than six or seven months to complete the work once you get started.”

“That's if I spend sixteen hours a day doing the calculations. I prefer spreading it out.”

“But you love spending sixteen hours a day doing the calculations. This movie will only be a few days, I promise. They're already nearly done filming. I'm running out of time, Bruce. You're my only friend in this realm, and my only hope at getting myself back.” Loki clasped Bruce's hands, and met his eyes. “Please help me.”

“No.”

A cunning spark flickered in Loki's eyes. “All right. I understand. I accept your decision. I'll just do it alone.”

Bruce paused. The thought of Loki going alone to try to 'solve' this problem made him queasy. Despite his misgivings, his sense of responsibility took over and he realized that Loki could not be allowed to attempt this by himself. 

“Fine. All right, fine...I'll come. But not for too long.”

“Great, the car's waiting for us outside. “ Loki stood up and flicked out a car fob from what appeared to be thin air. The sound of an expensive car alarm being disarmed startled Bruce, who suddenly realized that Loki must have already planned on his acceptance. “I have Lopt. Let's go.” 

“Now?”

“Yes, this can't wait.”

“I should clean up and put things away and pack...”

“It'll keep, I promise. I'll put a spell on this place. It'll stay just as you left it until we come back.” With one arm cradling the orange and white cat, and his other arm outstretched, Loki said a sharp word, and a shimmer seemed to settle on the house. Bruce stared; even motes of dust seemed to freeze in place.

“Now let's go.”


	3. Chapter 3

They headed northwest. Much to Bruce's distress, Loki seemed to be averaging a very startling three-digit velocity on the open highways, which didn't seem to phase either him nor the drivers around him. By the third or fourth police car they had passed without incident, Bruce had given up trying to talk Loki into slowing down and had just reclined further in his seat, trying to enjoy the music playing on the radio and Lopt purring on his chest. 

It was a long day driving, punctuated by occasional rest stops for gas which Bruce suspected were more for his and Lopt's benefit than for the car's – he had been watching the gauge and it seemed to never dip below a quarter full, propelled, he suspected, by some alternative means of propulsion that he was loathe to inquire. But Loki went through the all the motions of the road-savvy American tourist, from cups of substandard gas station coffee to stops for roadside diner food. Even his clothes fit the part; blue jeans and a gray Henley shirt, topped off with an open leather jacket and a pair of stylish dark sunglasses.

Somewhere in Oregon or Washington, Bruce dozed off. He woke up in the dark to a strange motion of the car; it was slowly moving to a halt, in an odd, shuddery way, as if the ground was not quite solid.

“Oh good, you're awake.” Loki put the car in park and turned off the ignition. “Let's go.”

“Where are we?” Bruce yawned, stretching out cramped limbs. “Are we there?”

“Almost.” Loki opened the door, and an icy breeze cut through the warm interior of the car, making Bruce shiver. The salt scent of the sea. Bruce blinked, and immediately began trying to guess where they could be.

“Is this somewhere in Washington?”

“No, British Columbia. Vancouver, specifically.” Loki offered his hand to Lopt, who climbed up his arm adroitly, settling on his shoulder. “Hurry, Bruce. We can't stay in the car on the ferry.” 

“Ferry?” Bruce rubbed his eyes. “We crossed the border?”

“Oh, that was a while back.”

“How did we get through customs?”

“Does it matter?” But at Bruce's look of dismay, Loki shrugged. “You'll be pleased to know that everything was done legally. I took care of all the niceties. Come, I have a coat for you.” And Loki reached into the back seat and drew out a dark wool coat for Bruce that Bruce had not noticed before. “Here, put this on and let's go up to the passenger deck.”

Shivering, Bruce struggled to put on the coat. He followed Loki, who made his way confidently through the ship.

“I'm glad you're here with me, Bruce.” Loki said simply, as they stood at observation deck, watching the dark sea around them lit by the lights of the ferry. “I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Don't thank me yet.” Bruce sighed. The closer he was getting to their destination, the more he was regretting the arrangement. “I haven't done anything.”

“You're already helping, with your support.”

At that, Bruce had nothing to say. 

*****

It was late when they arrived at the house. Duffel bag in hand, Bruce looked around curiously: the layout reminded him of his home out in New Mexico, but here everything was wood, slabs of rough-hewn timbers instead of adobe. It was too dark to see outside, but he could hear the faint sound of the ocean, the gentle motion of lapping waves.

Loki came in after Bruce. Lopt trotted in after them, exploring the house with inquisitive sniffs and cautious curiosity. Loki waved his hand with a showy flourish, and a fire sprung up in the fireplace, tempering some of the chill in the house. 

“You ought to rest, Bruce.”

“Yeah. I think I should just go to bed. After a shower.” 

“Of course. Through there.”

Compared to his home, the fixtures and furnishings were opulent. Bruce took a truly hot shower for the first time in what seemed like ages, and it helped to melt the damp chill that seemed to cling to him. Afterwards, as he dried his hair with a towel, he caught a glimpse of himself in the steam-frosted mirror, and he was startled at what he saw.

He ran his hand over the glass, wiping away the condensation. 

Were there always so many streaks of white at his temples? Had his beard always been so peppered with gray? His cheeks seemed hollower than he remembered, and the tangle of unruly hair and beard distressing. And when he tried to recall the last time he had been to town before Loki came, the memory seemed to evade him. Had it been so long since he had been around people?

Immediately, he decided to shave and clip his hair as best he could. It took him a while, but eventually he felt that he looked almost decent, albeit somewhat ragged around the edges.

“Here. Let me help you with that.” Loki appeared behind him through the open door. “Honestly, Bruce. You should have just said something.” He took the scissors from Bruce's hand. 

“It's fine.”

“You're terrible at this. I think I left you alone too long.”

“I'm fine, Loki.” Bruce looked at their reflection. Loki's eyes were narrowed with focus as he clipped at Bruce's curling locks, straightening ragged cuts and making little adjustments that seemed to make Bruce look more professorial than hollow-eyed mountain man.

“You're pretty good at this.” Bruce smiled a little, surprised.

“I've a myriad of talents. Though the first time I cut someone's hair, it was my brother's and I received such a scolding. Of course, I've improved significantly since then.” Loki ruffled his fingers through Bruce's hair, shaking out loose snippets, brushing off his shoulders. “There. You're presentable. Now get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Bruce watched Loki curiously as he left. Loki had never voluntarily brought up the topic of his family before.

*****

Despite the big bed, Bruce was curled up along the far edge of it, book in hand, asleep. Loki plucked the volume lightly out of his hand, and drew the bedding over Bruce's shoulder. He glanced at the cover and smiled, setting it aside. Linear Alegbra. So very much like Bruce, to review fundamental concepts before embarking on a new research project.

In the glow of the bedside lamp, Bruce's face seemed troubled, even in sleep, as if he was struggling with a difficult problem. Loki tried to reconcile it with his scant memories of Bruce from the past. The glimpse of the man on the helicarrier, or at least the man who had cared for him when he was merely a shadow of himself.

But time had passed, and perhaps that man was gone, replaced by this older, more quiet man. It was the way of mortals. Time etched onto their faces, gray streaked their hair. Yet for Bruce it seemed rather quick; it had been just over two years since the Tesseract. 

The light caught on the silver strands threaded through Bruce's hair, and Loki brushed the curls lightly with a fingertip.

Loki turned off the light.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Bruce finally realized how similar this house was to his own. The layout was almost identical, except that the rooms were larger and better equipped. Even things like salt and pepper were in the same places that he would put them, though of course his own refrigerator rarely had items such as eggs or ice cream or strawberries as this one did. There was even a piano, a Steinway from the same year, tuned and adjusted with nearly the same action he was accustomed to at home.

It was almost disturbing to think that Loki had gone to all this trouble, but it was easy to forget once he looked outside. It was raining over the distant sea and it seemed that the horizon was pure mist, gray and lovely. The trees were a deep, gorgeous green that seemed to soothe something deep inside of him, as if he had unknowingly longed for these tall cedars and firs. Even Lopt was enjoying herself, clambering through the bare branches of a winter-stripped birch, chasing fleet-footed squirrels.

After breakfast, he found clothes laid out for him, an expensively tailored suit and shirt that gave him pause. He had forgotten about that purple shirt. It had been destroyed years ago...

“Loki? Did you get me...clothes?”

“I'm glad you're up. Get ready and get dressed, we're due on set in an hour.” Loki was adjusting his tie, dressed with impeccable rakishness.

“You didn't have to go through all this trouble. I brought clothes-”

“Nonsense. I had these especially made for you.”

Bruce picked up the shirt. “How do you know my measurements?”

“I have eyes, don't I? Besides, you'll look good.”

“These look like the clothes I was wearing when...” Bruce frowned. “Back...back then.” 

“But nicer.”

“Why do I feel like I'm walking into an ambush?”

“Oh, Bruce. You're being melodramatic. Now get dressed and we'll go.”

“I think I'd be more comfortable in my own clothes.”

“Bruce.” Loki took him by the shoulders and met his eyes. “You haven't bought clothes in a long time. Years in fact. Even your nice clothes are well...rather shabby. Recall that you wore these pants last while building a mudbrick wall. I won't have anyone thinking less of you on account of your appearance. Now please, just get dressed.”

“I...” Bruce stared at the suit. “Wait, what about you? Are you coming?”

“Of course.” Loki straightened up. “I'm your agent, Steve.”

“Agent? I have an agent?”

“Just play along. It's not difficult; you're a clever man.”

“...fine. But you. You can't go looking like that. You and that actor...”

“Of course.” Loki made a little gesture with his index fingers and thumbs along his upper lip, and a long, outlandish mustache appeared. 

“That is completely ridiculous. It is not going to work.” Bruce gave him a look. 

“And yet, it will. Trust me, Bruce. I'm getting Lopt, and I'll meet you in the car.” 

“Hey! Don't get my cat involved in this!”

*****

Bruce knew it was already going to be a problem when he realized that many of the people already knew of his ersatz agent, greeting 'Steve' by name, and discussing various matters of business. When he caught Loki's eye, Loki just winked at him. At least someone was getting some amusement out of this, he thought sourly to himself.

In the distance along the beach, a great number of people were milling around in costume or handling props and set pieces, including what appeared to be large rubber tentacles being moved around by blue-clothed puppeteers.

“What are they doing?” Bruce blinked. “Isn't this movie supposed to be about...”

“Oh my goodness! Is that...Dr. Banner?” And as Loki approached him, dressed in his full Asgardian armor, he realized he had lost track of 'Steve' as they had walked through the encampment.

“Y-yes, I'm Bruce Banner.”

Dumbfounded, Bruce took a step back as Loki took his hand, shaking it firmly. “It's truly a great honor to meet you in person.”

“Loki...?”

“Oh, my apologies. This armor must be startling.” Loki reached up and began to wrench off his helmet with a wince. When it came apart in two pieces, Bruce suddenly realized it was a costume. 

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Tom Hiddleston.”


	5. Chapter 5

“It's a shame Mark Ruffalo isn't here. He would have loved to meet you.” Close up and in costume, the resemblance to Loki was astounding. The actor even had the dyed black hair at the length Bruce remembered, and it sent a chill of memory through his body. 

“I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with the name-”

“Oh, he's the actor that plays you. I'll have to show you a picture; he sort of looks like he could be your brother.”

“Oh.”

“I must tell you that I was deeply inspired by the book. I know it was written anonymously, but it really made me feel as though I got to know you and all the other Avengers.”

“Avengers? Book?” And then suddenly Bruce remembered that last Christmas he had received a package from Stark, with a hardback book and a hand-written note that promised good bedtime reading. He hadn't read it, but at the same time he hadn't thrown it out, only because it was not compostable and burning it was against his principles.

“Oh, wait. Let me show you mine – I'd love it if you could sign it for me!” Tom ran off to a trailer and came back with a well-worn copy. Bruce caught a glimpse of the title: Avengers: The Attack of Manhattan. “I've been using it for reference. It's really brilliant. There is this line of yours I absolutely love...let me find it. It's about your secret.”

“My...secret?” Horrified, Bruce tensed as Tom flipped through the book, wondering what exactly had been written about him. 

“All right, here it is. The horrible alien ship is coming and Captain America asks you to get ready, and then you say to him, 'That's my secret, Captain. I'm always ready to pilot the Stark Industries Hulk Suit.'” 

“Oh...” Bruce was nearly boneless with relief. “Right. I...remember.”

“Look, I even got my picture taken with the Hulk!” Tom showed Bruce his cell phone, and there was a picture of the actor, in street clothes, standing next to a life-sized Hulk poised as if for combat with a grimace of anger. “We saw it in New York while we were filming there. We were lucky to get an invitation to Stark Tower; that particular model of the Hulk was being decommissioned. The day after we saw it, it was sent to the Smithsonian.”

“Great. That's...great. I guess...I should have read the book.” 

“Oh, you must. It's what the movie is based on.” Tom pointed over to the milling crowd on the beach. “They're filming the giant kraken attack. According to the book, it comes after the undersea battle and let me think...oh yes, before Loki's flying castle. Of course, the book says you weren't there for this?”

“Yeah, wow. That's...really something I hadn't-”

“I see you've met my client.” Steve reappeared at Bruce's side, Lopt trotting at his heels. “Bruce, this is Tom.” 

“Yes, we just met. Great to see you again, Steve.” As they shook hands, Bruce wondered why no one around seemed to notice that one was exactly like the other, but with a ridiculous mustache. “Oh, how adorable. Is that your cat?”

“No, this is Bruce's cat, Lopt.” 

“Say, isn't that another name for-”

“It's a long story.” Bruce managed a weak smile. “Hey, uh. Steve. A word? In private?”

“Yes, of course. Excuse us.” Arm around Bruce's shoulder, Loki steered him away. 

Once they were out of earshot, Bruce shrugged Loki off. “This is a bad idea. A really bad idea.”

“No, it's working, I promise. Once filming is over for this segment in a day or two, you'll invite him to our house for dinner, and-”

“And...he's a perfectly nice, decent guy! Why can't you just leave him alone? So what if he's a part of you, this seems awful! He's got his whole life ahead of him.”

“Bruce.” And Bruce flinched a little; it was that look Loki got whenever he wanted something his way, no matter what the consequences. “You can't understand the importance of this to me.”

“Maybe not but-”

“Bruce!” A familiar, thunderous voice called out. 

“Wait, is that your brother?”

Loki smiled and twirled the end of his mustache.

*****

Thor embraced him with a thump that nearly knocked the breath out of him. “Bruce! I did not think that you would actually come. But I am pleased to see you here.” 

“Yeah, I didn't think I would come too. But here I am.” Bruce opened his arms in a gesture of defeat. “So what brings you to this, this...”

“I am...” Thor paused, squaring his shoulders with pride. “A stunt double.”


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce watched as the movie crew went to work, painstakingly recreating a scene from the book. The work was long and repetitive, taking up the rest of the day with only minimal breaks. Loki...well, the actor Tom Hiddleston, was riding on top of a miniature submarine on top of a giant kraken that was wrecking havoc on the beach. The kraken was mainly a large mechanical lift covered in blue fabric, with some large puppeteer-controlled tentacles. Thor came flying (and in this case, it really was Thor), swatting almost playfully at the ersatz Loki, who fended him off with stylish twirls of his golden staff. 

“Stark...” Bruce shook his head. He skimmed the passage from the book, borrowed from the actor. It was just the kind of absurd, egocentric thing he could imagine Stark writing, or rather, dictating to JARVIS late at night. Grimly, he wondered if it had been the result of bourbon or scotch, and then he wondered how the book had made it past SHIELD interference. Or had there been approval? Collusion?

“Care for some coffee, Dr. Banner?” A woman asked him.

“No thanks.” And he would have left it at that but that voice seemed oddly familiar. “Wait-”

“I didn't take you for a coffee kind of guy.” Natasha. Bruce shook his head, wondering how long she had been lurking around. She had grown her hair out; it was blonde now, tied back neatly in a loose ponytail.

“I'm not. Long time no see, Nata-”

“Natalie.” She smiled, sardonically. She was dressed in the kind of casual business attire that made her appear completely harmless and unremarkable, like any other woman in any number of possible professional careers. “Natalie Romanowski.” She shook his hand firmly. “It's nice to meet you again, Dr. Banner. I'm Mr. Thor's special assistant. He asked me to see if you needed anything.” 

“Yes, well. The pleasure's all mine.” Bruce glanced at a passing group of extras, all young men and women dressed as soldiers, whispering among themselves while staring at him and Natasha. Against his better judgment, he sighed. “All right. You know, I think I'll take some tea, if you have it.”

“There's a teapot in Mr. Thor's trailer. Right this way, if you please.”

“Certainly.” Bruce smiled, wondering what kind of trap he was walking into.

*****

“I didn't realize stunt doubles had their own trailers.” As Bruce stepped into the surprisingly lavish trailer, he noticed how it was designed especially tall and wide, trimmed in hardwood and chrome.

“He's more like a special guest of the film. Originally he was going to play himself but...” Natasha filled the sleek electric kettle with water. “It turns out he's not much of an actor. He's much too honest.”

“And you? Why aren't you playing yourself?” Bruce smiled stiffly.

“Because I have a day job. Besides,” Natasha winked. “Stark insisted I be played by Scarlett Johansson.”

“Huh. I didn't know he had that kind of pull.” 

“He does, as the author of the book.”

“Wasn't it by an anonymous author?” 

“Well, you know him.” They smiled briefly at each other, sharing an old joke. An awkward silence followed, and Natasha busied herself with making tea. Bruce fidgeted a little, wondering if it was a coincidence or not.

“So...I'm going to guess your new day job isn't babysitting. They wouldn't send someone like you to keep an eye on Thor...” And as he said it, Bruce knew he had made a tactical mistake; she had been deliberately waiting on him to make the first move to draw him out.

“Good guess. Now, I'm sure you know where this is going...”

“Yeah. I think so. You want to know why I'm here.” He smiled politely, masking his growing sense of dread.

“Correct. Your man has been asking around the production offices for a few days now, dropping hints about the possibility of you coming. We intercepted some phone calls and text messages. Besides that, we caught you on CCTV in a gas station just north of Salt Lake City yesterday. Based on the time-stamp, it seems like you got here in an awful hurry.”

“I wasn't driving.” Bruce shrugged, trying to seem casual as he wondered why she would tell him so much of what they had found out.

“And...since when did you have an agent?”

“Well, you know. The business.” He said weakly, feeling pinned by her gaze.

“Oh, well, that explains everything.” She rolled her eyes and handed him a cup of tea. “Careful, that's hot.” 

“Thanks.” He wondered if it had been dosed with something, but then, he was already in too deep when he got in the car with Loki. He sighed and took a sip.

“So Bruce, why don't you tell me about-”

“Oh, there you are, Bruce.” Loki came in the open door, still with that ridiculous mustache. “I was looking for you.”

“Steve.” Bruce was careful to hide his relief, knowing Natasha's sharp eye for detail. “I was just having tea. Let me introduce you...”

“We've been introduced.” Natasha's tone was both suspicious and dismissive. So she hadn't guessed who Steve was, Bruce thought. 

“Anyhow, Bruce and I have a little meeting with the producers. If you don't mind?” Loki caught Bruce's elbow and began to gently tug him out the door.

“Oh, I don't mind at all...” Bemused, Natasha leaned against the counter, watching them leave, before pulling out her cell phone to call in.

“Hey. It's me. I've made contact.”

*****

“Oh Bruce. Don't drink that.” Loki plucked the cup out of his hand, dumping it out on the grass in a gesture of disdain before handing the empty cup back to him.

“Why? What's wrong with it? Is it poisoned?” 

“No, of course not. It's chamomile. You don't like chamomile.”

“Right. I hadn't noticed.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “You know, if she's here...that means they're watching us. Well, at least they're watching me.”

“They won't find out, trust me.”

“She's really good at her job. She knows something is strange...”

“I have my ways around that and besides...” Loki gave him a conspiratorial look, “I have an airtight alibi for our partnership.”

“Now, why do I get the feeling that this is not the best-”

Just then, Lopt came bounding up to them, followed by Thor and the actor. “We have finished the day's work, my friends!” Thor smiled. “And your little companion lead us to you. Won't you join us for dinner?”

Bruce glanced at Loki. “What about the meeting?”

“What meeting?” 

“Wasn't there...oh never mind.” He managed a gracious smile as the others joined them. “I think it would be nice to get dinner. What do you think, uh, Steve?” It was disconcerting, it took adjusting- but oddly as time went along, it became easier and easier to follow Loki's script for this farce.

Loki smiled and immediately launched into a discussion on the relative merits of various local restaurants, shifting attention away from Bruce, for which he was eminently grateful.

At least it would be over soon, Bruce thought to himself, and immediately his thoughts wandered to his home in New Mexico. If he was home, he'd probably be cooking lunch. Something with chickpeas; if he was home, he would have soaked some the night before. Maybe that baked falafel that always managed to come out as sort of half vegetable patty, half rock, and always ended up as a lumpy soup before it was fully edible... 

Oddly, the memory seemed to be a little more distant and a little less comforting than he thought it would be. He shook his head as if trying to clear it of clutter as he followed along, half-listening to the others discuss dinner plans.


	7. Chapter 7

“Bruce? Bruce?” Loki's voice snapped him out of his reverie. Bruce blinked, straightening up.

“Huh? Y-yes, what? What is it?” 

“It's your turn to order.” 

“Oh. Um, this, please.” Bruce pointed to something on the menu at random, without thinking too much about his decision. The waiter thanked him and took his menu, and Bruce went back to his thoughts. 

It couldn't be helped. Even out of costume and makeup, the similarities were uncanny, and with the two sitting across from each other at the table, it was as if he was looking at a magic mirror that reflected two aspects of the same man. One, with the faint lines of cruelty and hardship of the soul written on the corners of his mouth; the other, those self-same lines the result of a lifetime of smiles and laughter. Every time he noticed he was staring, Bruce would look away, at the frilly frisée salad that crunched bitter under his fork, at the generous glass of pinot noir that was poured for him, at anything else, but his eyes would wander back. It seemed preposterous that he was the only one who noticed; it seemed even worse that sitting beside the real Loki was his brother who suspected nothing.

They were trading funny anecdotes; it seemed that they were evenly matched in wit. Even Bruce found himself chuckling, shaking his head a little to himself as the stories grew raucous. 

When the food came, Bruce concentrated on each bite, eating a little too fast, as if by doing so he could leave sooner. He chased stray strips of pommes frites and haricots verts with his fork, letting his thoughts drift. It had been a long time since New York; well, perhaps not so long in the big picture of his life, but it felt like a lifetime ago. He could still feel the rough stone under his fingertips, the sensation of flying as he leapt from building to building. The sound of the crashing battle, the stench of the black smoke. A lifetime since he had stopped fighting himself and started fighting for something else. A lifetime ago since...

“Bruce?” Startled, Bruce sat up to find Loki leaning over him, the tip of that ridiculous mustache tickling his cheek. 

“Yes?” He looked around, noticing the others were still talking over coffee and fruit. 

“Let's get out of here. You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, I'm about done here.”

Loki straightened up, his hands on Bruce's shoulders. “Thank you for dinner, everyone. Don't worry about the bill; it's been taken care of. Dr. Banner has some work he needs to finish tonight. Good night everyone.” And with a brief but friendly farewell, Loki whisked Bruce out of the restaurant.

There was a certain relief to be back in the car, Lopt in his arms, and Loki behind the wheel. Bruce stared out at the tall black trees and the lashing rain that had begun to fall after they left, chuckling a little to himself. Some kind of relief! Who would have thought that he would ever find it a relief to be anywhere with Loki? 

“Something funny?” Loki turned on the radio, humming to himself. For whatever reason, it seemed to always play music that Bruce liked, no matter what the stereo settings were or where they were physically present. 

_Said he's going back to find...To a simpler place and time..._

“No, nothing really.”

*****

C-diminished chord...eight measures of that. And were those 16th notes? C-sharp diminished chord...

“Loki?” Bruce opened his eyes slowly. Something weighed heavily on his limbs, he could feel the rattle of chains as he tried to move. He could just barely lift his head, but he could feel a distant rumble. Against the back of his neck and his ankles, was an uncomfortable parallel edge. Gravel sifted beneath his scrabbling fingers.

“Loki?” 

First inversion diminished A-chord. A chord. A train. Could you invert a train? Wait, a train? Suddenly, he could feel the rumble of the train through his body, through the metal tracks and the wooden ties. Black smoke in the distance, growing closer.

This had to be a dream, right? He looked around. Everything seemed to be in shades of gray, and suddenly, he heard Loki's laughter, outstripping the whistle of the train.

_I have you where I want you!_ From his vantage point, the letters were backwards, and then Bruce suddenly realized where he was, on the big screen. Bruce could see the audience from where he was, through what seemed like a scratched and slightly frosted pane of glass. They seemed to be frowning, muttering amongst themselves that he wasn't being a good damsel in distress; meaning that he wasn't much of a damsel and he wasn't making enough of his distress. 

_I've got you now, Bruce!_

The words snapped him back to the problem at hand. Bruce twisted, turning his head to get a better look. The train drove on inexorably, its oversized iron cowcatcher pointed directly at his quivering middle. Loki was standing on top of the engine, snapping a sizable pair of reins that somehow was keeping the rearing metal beast in line. It belched smoke furiously as Loki laughed. He was wearing a dark gray bowler hat and a black and gray suit, a striped waistcoat cinched neatly around his slender waist.

Loki twirled his ridiculous mustache, snarling it up like any good vaudeville villain.

_You won't get away!_

Panicked, Bruce called for that other self, and it was not responding, not even sluggishly. He was alone. Even his teeth and bones seemed to rattle with the force of the oncoming train. 

F-diminished...chromatic...moving up in chromatic half steps...

Bruce snapped awake, heart pounding, stomach in a painful knot. “What was that?”

“It's just the phone.” A drowsy voice beside him answered. The bedside light clicked on, bathing the room in a warm glow. There was a little beep as the phone was answered. “Hello? Yes? Yes, he's here. Who may I ask is calling? Oh, it's for you, Bruce.” An arm slipped over Bruce's shoulder, handing him the phone.

“Uh, um.” Bruce took a deep, calming breath, trying to restore order to his mind. “Dr. Banner speaking.”

“Bruce.” It was Natasha. “I didn't know. I mean, you never said...” Was it his imagination, or did she sound embarrassed? Was she capable of sounding embarrassed? He tried to remember.

“Never said what?” Bruce looked at his watch. It was just past midnight. “Why are you calling so late?”

“Late? Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you two would be in bed already. And...you know, you didn't have to keep it a secret. You could have just told me. I guess this all makes sense now, I mean, if he asked you to...”

“Told me what? Asked me to what? Natasha?” 

“Oh, never mind, Bruce. Just go back to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.” With that, she hung up.

With a groan, Bruce clicked off his phone, and shoved it back under the pillow. He turned over on the bed. His stomach hurt. Stupid, stupid, not thinking through what he had eaten; he wasn't used to such rich fare. No wonder he was having nightmares. What was that stupid dream about anyway? Trains, silent movie villains... He closed his eyes for a moment. The weight of the chains? Well, that was the blankets and Lopt and...

Slowly as he grew gradually more aware in the dim light of the bedroom. Extraneous arms and legs. Someone who answered and handed him the phone. The bed was big; the layout of the house meant that it was like the house in New Mexico, which meant that there was only the one bedroom with the one bed and where did Loki sleep? And the way he was lying down with respect to those arms and legs meant that he was the little spoon and...

“Loki?”

“Yes, Bruce?” The voice was close. Very close. Probably too close. It was right in his ear, and tickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping? Well, I was sleeping.”

“No, that's not...I mean, why. Why?”

“Well, there is only the one bed. Besides, it's a good cover, isn't it? I told you I had this all worked out.”

“That's clever.” Bruce sighed, almost helplessly. It wasn't even worth being mad over. He had agreed to this and more when he agreed to help Loki. It wasn't even implied; it was all right there for his eyes to see. 

“Isn't it?” Loki's lips grazed Bruce's earlobe, and he gave a little shiver, rubbing at his ear. He took another deep breath, letting it out with a slow exhale. 

“Loki...do they all think...”

“Well, yes.”

“Really? Everyone?”

“I thought you wouldn't mind too much. You made it abundantly clear that you weren't interested in pursuing anyone.”

Bruce shook his head; he did remember something along those lines, only phrased in such a way as to state that he wasn't interested in pursuing Loki...

“And that mustache?”

“Technically, only you can see the mustache. They all see someone else. Do you want to see what they see?”

“Sure. Why not?” Bruce untangled himself and turned over to find Loki in a state of _déshabillé_ , but it wasn't Loki's form that he encountered. The man had neatly styled dark brown hair and pale blue eyes, with a generous mouth and a generously muscled build. Bruce averted his eyes from going further south; did Loki always have to sleep in the nude?

“I wanted to make sure they knew you had great taste. Well, I suppose I could have played a woman, but this was more fun.” Loki winked, and returned to his normal form. “What do you think?”

“Go to bed, Loki. Just...go back to sleep.”

“Oh Bruce, you're so cute when you're underwhelmed by overwhelming revelations.”

“Ungh.” Bruce flopped over, stomach tangled up in a coil of agony. “Just...go back to sleep.”

Loki ignored him and slipped out of bed, coming back with a hot water bottle for Bruce's aching stomach and some soothing ginger tea. Later, Bruce curled up, back to back with a sleeping Loki, and fell into a fitful sleep.


	8. It's a Cat-tastrophe!

The makeup trailer was finally empty. Lopt leapt up onto an empty counter. The last makeup artist had neglected to turn off the lights; under the hot glow it was warm and comfortable. She turned, about to lie down, when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

Intrigued, she pawed and the other orange cat pawed back. 

Mrr?

She sniffed at the reflection, and the reflection sniffed back. It smelled familiar, like...

The other orange cat stepped out through the mirror, curling around her.

_Hello, Lopt._

 _Hi Lokicat._ For her it was a matter of immediate acceptance; it wasn't something to be questioned or thought of as strange. She knew the other cat; she had seen it once before. 

Lokicat sniffed her over. _You've been fixed?_

_Yes, Daddy said he didn't want any eight-legged kittens. I don't know what that means._

Lokicat bristled, and then licked at her head. Lopt purred. 

_It means, my dear, that we should go play. Sleep later; now's the time for fun._

_Okay. ___

__

__*****_ _

__

__“'...and you, big fella, you've managed to piss off every single one of them.'”_ _

__“'That was the plan.'”_ _

__“'Not a great plan. When they come, and they will, they'll come for you.'”_ _

__“'I have an army.'”_ _

__“'We have a Stark Industries Hulk Suit.'”_ _

__“'Well, if it hadn't been for you meddling kids...' You know, every time I get to this line, I wonder if he really said this.” Tom set down the script, looking out the window of the trailer at the darkening sky._ _

__Thor shrugged. “I cannot tell you if it is true. I was not there to witness it. We must rely on Stark for the truth in this matter.” He glanced at the flimsy copy in his hand, before setting it down as well. Carefully choosing his words, he spoke again, “But brother, you ought to remember what happened...after all, it was your finest hour, or so you said...”_ _

__“Thor...” Tom paused, struggling with his feelings of friendship and his empathy for Thor's predicament. “Remember, the looks are only superficial. It can happen, just by chance. We're not the same person, I swear it. I grew up here, on Earth...Midgard.”_ _

__“But you sound just like him, and-”_ _

__“And I'm also blond. Remember? You saw me before they did the hair and makeup and such.”_ _

__Thor knelt before Tom, broad hands on Tom's slender shoulders. “Just...try to remember who you are. For your sake and mine.”_ _

__“I'm sorry, Thor. I know who I am; I'm your friend but I'm not your brother. We've had this talk before; it's not going to change any...”_ _

__Just then, a bolt of lightning struck nearby, the thunderclap almost simultaneous, shaking the trailer with a loud crash. Tom jerked under Thor's hands, startled._ _

__“What?! W-was that you?”_ _

__“Not this time. It was merely the weather.” Thor let him go. His brother was a warrior who didn't flinch in the face of danger; this man flinched at the mere sound of thunder. He supposed it could still have been Loki, playing at weak mortaldom, but under his hands, he had felt the tremor pass through the man, as if the fear had struck to the core._ _

__Or could it be that his past actions had traumatized his brother so that he had not only lost his memory, but was now timid to the point of being afraid of harmless thunder? Guilt-stricken, Thor looked away._ _

__“Oh, goodness, that was close.” But then Tom noticed the sadness in Thor's demeanor. Perhaps he had been too harsh; there was no real harm in letting the man think they were brothers, as long as he didn't try to take him back to Asgard. But even then, that could be an adventure... “I wonder if it hit the trailer. Oh, but the lights are still on. Thor, why don't we have some hot chocolate?”_ _

__Thor smiled weakly. “I think I would like that.”_ _

__“Listen, even if we're not brothers, friendship is like a brotherhood. We can be brothers that way.” Tom smiled warmly, and he could see that his words were brightening Thor's mood. He filled the electric kettle and plugged it in, figuring he'd be safe from the storm with Thor at his side._ _

__“You're right.” Thor said thoughtfully. “We are brothers in a different sense.” Thor smiled broadly, and slapped Tom's back lightly._ _

__“Oof!” Bent over, Tom finally noticed the orange cat sitting in the corner, half hidden behind a hanging costume. “Look, it's Lopt. Where did she come from?”_ _

__“I think she's been here the whole time.”_ _

__Tom scooped her up. “Oh, what a lovely kitty you are...” Lopt purred in his arms, rubbing her cheek against his knuckles fondly. “Isn't she a sweet thing? Well, while the water heats up, let's go back to running lines. I want to be the best Loki I can be.” He smiled, fingertips running over Lopt, who suddenly and inexplicably clawed at his hand, twisting out of his grip._ _

__“Ow...” Tom sucked at his fingers; the scratch had drawn blood. He wondered what he had done to make the cat turn on him, but then he figured that it was something cats did sometimes. He probably did something to annoy it. “Sorry, Lopt. I didn't mean to upset you.” Pausing, he chuckled. “'For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother...'”_ _

__But the cat was already gone._ _

__

__*****_ _

__

__“Yes, sir. That's right. You can file it with my official report. Dr. Banner is dating a Hollywood PR guy. No, I don't know how they met. Yes, I am certain...that they were in bed together. I've scouted their rental and I've seen them together. No, they're not really affectionate in public, but that's to be expected from someone like Dr. Banner. Obviously you've read through his psych profile. Do you really want me to ask? Fine, okay. I can manage that. I'll report back later.” Natasha sighed, putting away the phone. Something didn't seem completely right. Could he really be..._ _

__“Well, there was that purple shirt...” She shook her head. That didn't always mean anything; a shirt was just a shirt and a color could be just a color, without any particular meaning or hint at sexual preference. Had he been close to Stark or the Captain or any of the other men in any way? But then, neither of them seemed like his type, judging from the looks of this Steve-the-PR-man. Her memory of the mysterious man's file was clear; grew up in a southern California suburb, his first job was as a deliveryman, quit in his early 20s after a terrible on-the-job accident, worker's compensation was claimed..._ _

__A little sound, and she turned around slowly, not giving away her cover. Probably just a PA running errands or bringing the mail. But it turned out to be a little orange cat, slightly damp from the outdoors._ _

__“How did you get in here?” She picked it up; it was compliant enough, not trying to scratch her. She checked the collar. Lopt. The back of the metal tag had an address in New Mexico, and a tiny inscription: With love, from Steve. It wasn't new; it was scratched and the bright metal faded with wear. She guessed at the cat's age. Less than four, more than one. Perhaps two? A significant gift from a significant other? Perhaps Valentine's day or a birthday or Christmas..._ _

__“Hmm. I guess it's possible...” She sat down, stroking the cat as she pondered the question. It purred and relaxed on her lap, kneading at her wool skirt._ _

__“But why Lopt?” She asked the cat. “Doesn't that mean Lok-eeeeowch!” The cat dug its claws into her leg. Natasha cursed sharply, untangling the cat from her leg. “Bad kitty! Shoo, shoo!” The cat gave her a look of what she could only describe as disdain before slipping back out the door._ _

__Troubled, she returned to her thoughts and could not find anything that seemed remarkably out of place. “Oh, Bruce Banner. Why must you be so difficult?”_ _

__

__*****_ _

__

__The production office was unusually empty. Emergency meetings somewhere else, Bruce guessed, probably on account of the inclement weather. Bruce sat on the sofa, making the best of his time by thinking about his research grant project on quantum superposition and fuel efficiency, while watching Lopt run back and forth, attacking various stationary objects one after another. Chair leg, paper bag, plastic takeout bag, cardboard box...eigenvalues, eigenvectors, Laplace transforms..._ _

__“Hi Lopt.” Lopt had clambered up onto the couch. “Tired already?” He smiled, stroking his fingers through the cat's soft fur. “Want a treat?” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie, feeding her a few liver treats. She licked his fingers with a rough tongue. “Such a good girl.”_ _

__Lopt licked at her paw and wiped her face down, before curling up in his lap, purring loudly. Bruce closed his eyes, setting his hand protectively on Lopt. At least there was this little comfort from home to keep him company. Soon this would be over and they'd be back in New Mexico. But he would miss these rainy days and the incredible greens of the grasses and trees...and the fresh food, even if it didn't always agree with him..._ _

__He heard the click of the door and opened his eyes._ _

__“Oh. Oh! Dr. Banner!” Natasha stood in the doorway, surprised._ _

__“Yes?” Bruce's fingers moved lightly, and he realized that he was brushing his fingertips through hair. Longish hair. “Um...” He looked down. Loki was now lying on the couch beside him, head in his lap. Loki looked up at him with a sleepy smile under the handlebar of his bristly mustache._ _

__“I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude...” Natasha looked away, flustered. She shook her head, steeling herself, remembering what she was there for. “Well, I was surprised, that's all.”_ _

__“I suppose I should come clean. After all this time, I mean. The truth. You deserve the truth...” Bruce felt Loki tense minutely. “After all, you've never been properly introduced.” He gave Loki a gentle push, and Loki swung his long legs off the couch, getting up. He took a deep breath, steadying himself._ _

__“Uh...Nat-um, Natalie. This is my uh, dear friend Steve. We met...I guess it must have been two years already? He came to the hot air balloon festival in New Mexico and got lost following a balloon shaped like a giant...a giant cartoon mouse. We met in the nearest town to my house...I was getting groceries and...I guess. One thing led to another.” He attempted a laugh, but it came out fake and awkward. Bruce shut his mouth._ _

__“Charmed.” Loki shook Natasha's hand._ _

__“Likewise.” Natasha managed a smile that was not quite a glare. Did she smell liver?_ _

__“So I'm going to go now...” Bruce took Steve's elbow. “I mean, we're going to go now. I think we're both tired from all this traveling that we've been doing. Uh...dear?”_ _

__“Yes, darling?” Loki smiled down at him, charming as could be._ _

__Bruce felt his eyelid twitch. “Do you know where the cat is?”_ _

__“Right over there. She's asleep in one of those cardboard boxes.”_ _

__Bruce looked at where Loki was pointing and saw Lopt asleep in a deep box filled with inflated shipping materials. She yawned in her sleep, flexing her paws, and her claws dug into the material, bursting the air-filled pouch with a pop. The cat leapt out of the box in a scramble of limbs and orange fur, racing up Loki's leg and onto his head, glaring suspiciously at the abandoned nest that had betrayed her._ _

__He couldn't help but laugh. “Wonderful.”_ _


	9. Chapter 9

Arm in arm, Bruce walked down the beach with Loki. They passed the cordon and the security guards, strolling down the pebbly beach, footsteps crunching in the gravelly material. Above the high tide mark were strewn salt-soaked logs, physical reminders of past storms. He shivered; it was growing colder as they headed out away from the developed parts of the shore. 

“Is anyone looking?” Bruce glanced up at Loki conspiratorially.

“No. We're quite utterly alone.” 

“Finally.” He let go of Loki's arm, buttoning up his long wool coat. “It's freezing out. Tell me, what am I doing here?”

“You don't really want an answer to that, do you?” Oblivious to the cold, Loki unwound his scarf, coiling it loosely around Bruce's neck, settling it so that it draped more stylishly. “That's purely a rhetorical question that can only lead to scoldings. I can hear it in your voice.”

“A scolding is the least...the least you deserve.” Bruce muttered, tugging at the green wool scarf, adjusting it more comfortably. He stood silent for a long moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking. He sighed. “No, you're right. I'm not going to start a fight. We're friends, and we deserve to treat each other better than that.” He met Loki's eyes. “I'm not really angry. Just...annoyed and kind of disappointed. I knew there was going to be a pack of lies when I got into this, but I just hope that you understand how...how unpleasant it is for me to be constantly lying on your behalf.”

Loki smirked “Oh please, you're constantly lying to everyone, including yourself. It isn't much of a stretch to do it as a favor to me. You did a great job back there, by the way. Perhaps you should have played yourself in the movie.”

“No thank you,” Bruce frowned. Too many bad memories. He looked out at the sea, the pine-covered islands in the distance, and the dark clouds looming overhead. The wind stirred his tousled hair.

“Cheer up, Bruce.” Loki put his arm around him, giving him a squeeze. “You're not much fun when you're brooding. Besides, don't we make a great couple? Brains; and brains and looks and magic?” 

“Yeah, a couple of nuts. So how many more days are left?”

“We're almost done. A day or two at the most, I promise.” Loki sighed, his breath a little cloud in the cold air. “Once some more...oh, look, Bruce. It's snowing.”

Bruce smiled faintly, feeling some of the tension drain out of his body as tiny white snowflakes danced through the air. The snow fell lightly, melting away before it even touched the ground. They walked a little farther out along the pebbly beach, snowflakes falling all around them, until it grew too cold and Bruce insisted they go back.

 

*****

 

It was the final day of shooting the aerial fighting sequences. Above them in the cloudy sky, Thor flew past, his long hair streaming, a tight smile on his lips, with what Bruce imagined as the anticipated pleasure of battle. Bruce turned his head to follow the movement. Where Thor passed low on the emptied beach, a kick of gravel sprayed up into the air, clattering back to the ground in a rain of pebbles.

“He's going pretty fast, isn't he?” Loki sat down with him on the bench. His armored shoulder bumped Bruce's shoulder, but Bruce barely noticed.

“He broke the sound barrier about twenty minutes ago.” Bruce kept his eyes on Thor, thinking about the joy in that freedom of motion, the moment when the tyranny of gravity was overwhelmed through brute force and the body went flying, the satisfactory crunch of granite beneath his palms. The satisfactory crunch of a body under his fists. He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. “They asked him to slow down after that.”

“Ah, that explains the loud boom and the police cars.”

Bruce turned. “Oh, I didn't know the police had...” And he blinked, unable to speak for a moment. Loki...no, the actor, Tom, was sitting beside him, his armor scuffed and dusty, the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek. Skillful makeup and costuming, but it didn't stop the actor from looking as Loki had, that hot summer day when Bruce had found him crumpled in the desert. Of course, things had been a little different; there had been a cut on his hand, and...

“I'm so sorry. I forget how startling I appear. This probably brings up a lot of bad memories for you.” The actor smiled apologetically.

“No, no...no, I'm fine.” Bruce smiled weakly. “I was just thinking about something else; it wasn't you, I swear. Besides, all that stuff happened years ago. 'And in another country'...”

“'And besides, the wench is dead.'”

They smiled at each other. 

“I realized we haven't really spoken since the first day.” Tom turned to him, eyes bright with interest. “I'm sorry, I wish I could have spent more time getting to know you. This work keeps me busy...” He made an elegant little gesture that encompassed the complex workings of a movie set. 

Bruce looked down, a little overwhelmed by the intensity of those eyes, of that focus, as if he were the only important person in the world at that moment and no one else mattered. “Well, I guess I've been busy too. I didn't think I'd be...and so many people seem to want to talk to me...”

“But that's because you're interesting.”

Bruce laughed. “If you knew me, you'd know I was the most boring person here.”

“No, but...” Tom paused, thinking. “You're a hero. You've experienced things people would give everything for in order to experience.”

“Maybe. I don't feel like much of a hero. More like the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He shrugged.

“Certainly it seems that most people who are heroes think that way. But it's because to other people what you've done is fantastic, but to yourself, it doesn't seem that way.” Tom sighed. “I think you feel that after any big show. People come running up about how wonderful it was, and all you can think of is that you interchanged two lines in act two, or that there was some business with your hands that you meant to do in the fifth scene but forgot to do, and,” he waved his hands with absent expressiveness, “so on and so forth.”

“I guess.” Bruce shrugged.

“It's always hard hearing from other people that what you've done is great when you don't feel great. It reminds me-” Just then, Thor flew overhead again, this time with a helmet camera on capturing his point of view. They watched him in silence for a long moment, distracted.

“Sorry, what were we talking about again?” Bruce asked.

“I don't remember.” Tom replied. “Oh, I had better be getting back. They'll be wanting me any minute.” He got up and gave Bruce's shoulder a light squeeze. “Let's talk some more later. I really enjoyed our conversation.”

“Sure. I did too. Good luck out there. I mean, uh, break a leg.”

Tom smiled at him warmly, infectiously, and it brought a real smile to Bruce's lips. “Thank you.”

Bruce's eyes followed the actor as he walked back toward the set.

The wind began to rise, stirring the trees. Bruce watched as Thor made a final pass and landed lightly, careful not to unsettle the cameras and lights. Technicians scrambled over to take the helmet and an assistant brought him a drink; Thor emptied it in one motion and threw the empty thermos to the ground. Even from a distance, Bruce could hear him shout merrily, “Another!”

“Oh, Bruce.” This time it really was Loki, who was sitting beside him, appearing without any warning. “When I see you the two of you together, I wonder if it means that we would have been friends no matter what form I took, no matter the situation.”

“Yeah? I don't know...Maybe?” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking, trying to imagine other situations where Loki could have been his friend. Grad school, university...high school. He almost laughed, and then shook his head.. “I suppose maybe that's true. I wonder sometimes though, what exactly you see in me.”

Loki chuckled, leaning back. “Why, your cooking, of course. Speaking of which, you ought to invite our mutual friend over for dinner. I think it's about time that our little farce ends. We'll go back to New Mexico and you can go back to your farming and research. Perhaps Steve will stay or perhaps not; maybe there's a breakup, rather sad, somewhat unexpected, like a death. Yes, I like that idea. A terrible accident while hiking or some such nonsense. The bedside vigil at the hospital, the rainy day funeral... And then after that little drama, after a few years of solitude and mourning, we'll get you a girlfriend. Keep them guessing about your preferences. Tell me of any names that you think you'd like for a pretty girl...no wait, let me surprise you-”

“Loki.” Bruce nudged him with his shoulder. “Must you really commit to a lie like it's a long-term relationship?”

“Well. But isn't that what we have though? A long-term relationship.” Skirting the question, Loki put an arm around his waist, giving him a firm squeeze. “Now give us a kiss...”

Bruce chuckled as Loki leaned over, giving him a playful shove. “Not in public. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“And what reputation is that?” Loki smiled, sneaking a kiss on Bruce's cheek to try to make him blush.

“A..a misanthrope.” Embarrassed, Bruce rubbed his cheek.

“You only say that because you don't see yourself for the kind of man you are.”

“Yeah, what kind of a man is that? I mean, I'm alone almost all the time, except when you come barging in my house; I've got a cat, which by the way, is indicative in my culture of being a lonely, solitary person; and hell, I haven't even thought about talking to anyone in my family in...in years. If that's not a misanthrope, I'd like to know what is.”

“You like people more than you know or think. And you've always been kind, even when you didn't have to be, even to people who didn't deserve it.” Loki leaned against him. “And Bruce, you're not the only one who's had a bad family life and no longer talks to their family. I don't think I have any good memories about growing up. Being...a supposed son of Odin was...”

“I-I'm sorry, Loki. We don't have to talk about that. I mean, if you're not comfortable-”

“No, I know. It's not your fault. I've had enough of it too. In fact, I've had quite enough of all of this. Let's not worry ourselves about the past anymore.” Loki leaned down and whispered in his ear, so softly that only he could hear, a posture that from a distance must have looked tender, but what Loki said sent shivers running down Bruce's spine. “Don't forget what our plans are. I have some work to do and so do you. Let's finish this tonight. I grow tired of waiting.”

“Y-yes.” Sometimes it was too easy to forget who and what Loki was. Bruce stood up and headed toward the actors' trailers. He glanced back at Loki, but Loki was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tom are quoting Christopher Marlowe.


	10. Chapter 10

“You really ought to have told me in advance that you wanted to do this dinner today. Next time you have to tell me at least a day in advance.” Bruce muttered while shredding cooked chicken with two forks. “Honestly, I'd think you would know by now how long it takes to cook. And I want it to be a nice dinner, not just food. If it was just the two of us, it wouldn't matter, but this should be something nice for company.”

“Well, I appreciate your hospitality and respect for me...even if it is an ersatz me.” Loki smirked at him, adding pats of cold butter into a mixing bowl filled with flour and sugar, kneading the butter into the flour with his fingers.

“What are you making again? And...here, put on an apron, you're going to get flour all over your nice dress shirt...” Bruce set his things down and came over, tying an apron around Loki just as Tom walked in carrying a bottle of wine and a bouquet of yellow and white flowers.

“Good evening. My apologies...” Tom smiled, looking a little embarrassed. “I knocked but I don't think anyone noticed, and then when I knocked again, the door opened on its own; I suppose it must have been unlocked...”

“It's all right, come on in.” Bruce untangled himself from Loki, but not before tying the apron strings neatly. “Thank you, Tom. You know you didn't have to bring anything.”

“It's the least I could do. Besides, I wanted to.” Tom set down the wine. “Do you have a vase for these?”

Bruce shrugged and looked to Loki, who pointed to a top cabinet with flour-covered fingers. 

“Let me get that...” Tom retrieved the vase and put the flowers in water, first carefully trimming the stems and then gently rearranging the flowers.

Bruce went back to the chicken, tearing the rest of it up and putting it back in the pot, giving it a stir. 

“Something smells absolutely delicious,” Tom noted. “What are you cooking?”

“We're having chicken and chickpea stew with couscous. It's a rough approximation of a Moroccan dish I had a few times. And some Greek salad...so I guess it's a Mediterranean kind of night. What are you making, um, Steve?”

“Asian pear cobbler.” Loki didn't look up, intent on his flour mixture. “With blue cheese.”

“So yeah, Mediterranean...” 

“Did you ever visit Morocco?” Tom settled himself in a chair at the kitchen table, watching the two cook.

“Me? Oh no, never. There was a Moroccan takeout place near where I stayed in in New York. I'm pretty sure it closed down years ago.” Bruce smiled faintly to himself, trying to recall the details while he stirred the couscous. “Actually, it was sort of half-Moroccan, half-French. Like fusion cuisine before fusion cuisine was such a big thing. I spent the summer there when I was still in grad school. One of my advisers needed a house-sitter.” He set the wooden spoon down. “Sorry, I must be boring you.”

“No, not at all...tell me, was this dish something you learnt from the restaurant?”

“Hmm, I suppose this is...well, more like trying to recapture a taste from a long time ago. I hadn't really even thought of it until recently. And to be honest, I don't even know if this dish is anything like what I really had. It probably isn't. But the memory-” Bruce shrugged, unable to continue his train of thought.

“Sometimes the memory is more important than the actual experience.” Tom smiled wistfully. “After all, time wears off all the rough edges.”

“Yeah.” Bruce sighed. “I mean, well-said.” He looked over at Loki, who was putting a large glass baking dish in the oven. Their eyes met, and Bruce could see that particular glint of malevolent amusement in Loki's eyes. “Steve...uh, dear. When you're done with that, let's get this plated and ready to eat. Tom, mind opening the wine?”

*****

After dinner, Bruce sat back at a comfortable distance across the room on the couch, watching Loki and Tom playing a piano for four hands duet. It was no surprise that both had an affinity for music. What was strange was how both seemed to have the same idiosyncrasies, the same preferences for phrasing, the same balance of the right and left hands... It was all rather uncanny, and Bruce wondered if this was how identical twins played the piano.

The music slid into a cheerful cadence. They both spontaneously added an extraneous coda, a cute comedic tag that set them off laughing, a brotherly hand on one another's shoulder. It would be any minute now. Bruce could already tell that Loki's laughter had a forced, tense edge, as if he had come to the end of his patience.

Bruce sat quietly and waited. The two spoke softly together for a moment, something that he couldn't quite hear, and then it happened, almost quicker than he had anticipated.

With an easy motion of his arm, like an expansive gesture turned on its head, Loki flipped Tom out of the piano bench and onto the tile floor. Loki stood up, stepped lightly over the bench, and easily pinned Tom to the ground with a bent knee and an elbow.

Tom gasped for breath; Loki had not been gentle and Tom had his breath half-knocked out of him. “W-what?” He looked up expecting to see Steve, but the man was different...like a paler, colder mirror image of himself sporting a large, obviously fake mustache. The stranger took a dramatic pause before he plucked the mustache lightly from his upper lip and discarded it with a flourish.

“Surprised to see me?” Loki chuckled as the illusion about himself faded and he returned to his true form.

“You...you're really him.” Tom's eyes widened in awe. “So you weren't captured...”

“Oh, I was. But only temporarily.” Loki's smile never quite made it to his eyes. “That doggerel you read about me being safely stowed away in an off-world prison is pure rubbish. A little bit of wishful thinking. Political nonsense to keep people from complaining.”

“But...Bruce. Isn't he...”

“Don't worry yourself about Bruce. He won't bother us. This is between you and me. In fact, before our little drama is over, I want to commend you. You've done such a wonderful job of being me. I thank you for doing me justice. But I'm the only one who's allowed to be me, so now it's goodbye...”

“No, no wait.” Tom tried to push himself up, but Loki shoved him hard back onto the ground. In Loki's hand, a razor-sharp dagger appeared and pressed against Tom's throat, drawing a miniscule line of blood. 

“Please...!” Tom swallowed hard, trembling.

“All right, all right. I suppose you deserve some final words or a question or whatever it is that's on your mind. Do go on.” Loki gave a little heave of a sigh, pulling the knife back fractionally.

“I just want to know...w-why you're going to kill me. Is it something I did? Was it because of the movie?” Tears blurred Tom's vision.

“Oh, no, no. It wasn't the movie. Goodness, I'm not that petty. It's who you are. But it's not death, per se, not for you. You're just coming home, Tom. To me.” Loki stroked Tom's cheek with his free hand, brushing away a stray tear. “Don't cry. You're not dying. See, you're merely an offshoot of me. A poorly formed copy, albeit one of the better copies floating around. Your existence solely has to do with a little miscalculation of my powers. The math and physics and whatever else you call it are all rather complicated and I don't feel like explaining it since you wouldn't understand it anyway. You'll feel just a little pain when I destabilize you enough to reabsorb you and then...” He snapped his fingers. “I'll be whole again.”

“Nope.” Bruce leaned over and plucked the dagger out of Loki's lax hand. “Not now, Loki.”

“Bruce!” Loki sprang up, furious. “You promised!”

“I promised I'd help you, and I'm doing what I promised.” 

“How is this helping?! You know, I can still kill him. It's not like I don't have hands.”

“Yes, but I know this is your favorite dagger and you'd rather do yourself the honor of a good death at your own hands.” Bruce couldn't help but blink a little at the logic, but he had worked this all out and damned if he was going to falter.

“Stay out of my business!” Loki snarled, reaching for the dagger, but Bruce was implacable.

“You are my business.” Bruce's voice was soft as he glared back at Loki, stubborn and unyielding, and Loki could see in his eyes that tiny green flame that meant that things could easily get very unpleasant. For a moment, Loki wondered if he dared to tease the beast out of Bruce, but then he looked away.

“All right. Then tell me how this interference is possibly going to accomplish what needs to be done?”

“Sit.” Bruce pointed to the piano bench, and Loki sat down sullenly. “Tom, are you all right?” 

Shaking, Tom nodded and accepted Bruce's hand, letting Bruce help him up and onto the couch where he sat, face pale and eyes wide with fear. 

“It's okay, I won't let him hurt you.” Bruce tucked a wool blanket around Tom's shoulders and hoped that the shock wasn't too severe, before sitting down beside Tom. He set the dagger down at his other side.

“So let's talk.” Loki crossed his legs. “Tell me exactly how your idea is a good idea. Explain to me how this is 'helping'.”

“Loki, don't act like I'm too stupid to understand what you wanted to do. I've done everything you've asked me to do, up to and including pretending that some ridiculous avatar of yours is my lover. Now you're going to listen to me and do what I ask you to do.”

“Why should I?”

“Because...” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to say anything incredibly rude. “Because...reciprocity. I fed you, you fed me. I did as you wanted, now you do what I want. Get it?”

“Fine. Reciprocity it is then.”

Bruce felt the tiniest shift in the air, and he slammed his hand onto the hilt of the dagger. “Don't try any of your tricks, Loki. Sit back down, I know you too well to fall for that one.”

Loki sighed, revealing himself and dismissing the copy at the piano bench. He sat down by the couch, leaning against Bruce's knees, chin tucked against his elbow. “Fine, fine. No more tricks. You've got the upper hand,” he gestured dismissively. “For now.”

“All right. Just listen. I've been thinking about this. I remember...when you...I mean, that copy first came to my house in New Mexico. After you absorbed him, I noticed that you retained his memories. Correct?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, the few times you talked about your family...about your life. I gathered that none of it was all that great. You...you've had it rough. I mean, some of it was your own choices but...not all of it. I think...” Bruce paused, letting the words settle in. “I think if you let Tom live, and I mean if you let him live a full, long life, that by the time he dies and is uh...'naturally destabilized', you'll have the complete memories of a better life. He comes from a good family that loves him, he has a lot of friends that care about him, and you can tell he's a happy person. I think if you let him...I mean, if you let this copy...mature...er, ripen if you will, you'll get a crop of good memories from him.”

“I see you've been giving this some thought. I don't think I've ever heard you say so much to me in one go that wasn't about your work,” Loki snapped.

“Think it through, all right? Don't be so closed-minded just because you're upset at me.”

“Fine.” Loki sat quiet for a long time. Bruce glanced over at Tom to make sure the actor was still all right; it seemed that he was looking somewhat better, less pale and much more focused.

“All right. Suppose I agree. Wouldn't...wouldn't that make me someone else?” By the end of the sentence, Loki's voice was soft, almost a whisper, and Bruce looked down to see that Loki's eyes were bright with some unspoken emotion.

“Oh, Loki...” Bruce set his hands on Loki's shoulders. “I don't think what makes you you would become so very different, even with a little detour through another experience. And besides. He's you. Can you really...do you really want to go around killing aspects of yourself to fill what's missing in yourself? Is that what you want out of this? Do you really want your memories full of fear and dying?”

“Bruce...” Loki closed his eyes, resting against Bruce's knee, but Bruce could still feel the tension in Loki's body as he struggled with the problem. 

“Hey, I promised I'd help you.” Bruce said softly. “So let me help you.”

There was a long pause, and he could see Loki's fingers fidgeting as he considered his options. Stupidly, Bruce noticed the ticking of a nearby clock, and once he noticed it, he couldn't will the awareness of the sound away.

“Fine.” Loki said eventually. “But I have terms.”

“Talk. And then I'll tell you my terms.”

“I want to be able to visit him whenever I want to.” Loki gave a little bitter smile. “He is me after all.”

“I think that's up to Tom.”

“Y-yes, of course. Of course that's fine.” Tom's color was almost normal and he had stopped shivering. 

“All right. And-”

“Wait. Before you say anything else, you have to promise me that you won't try to end this contract in an untimely manner.” Bruce caught Loki's eye. “Because you're practically immortal; giving this man a few more decades is nothing to you. It would be...grossly petty if you try to weasel out of this.”

“Fine, fine. I promise. Upon my honor.” Loki's mouth twisted a little. 

“And your safety,” Bruce caught Tom's gaze and held it, “is contingent on you never speaking about this to anyone. Do you understand? Whatever happened tonight...did not happen. You do not know that I have any connection to Loki. We had a normal dinner party.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Tom nodded. “I won't tell a soul. I'll try to forget everything that happened here tonight...”

“One last thing, Bruce.” Loki glanced lazily over at Tom, and then met Bruce's eyes.

“Yes?”

“I reserve the right to protect him. After all, he is me.”

“Fine. But try not to interfere too much in his life...you know that observation skews results.”

“Hmph.” Loki crossed his arms, and Bruce took that as a sign of agreement. Without a word, he slipped the hilt of Loki's dagger back into Loki's hand, where it disappeared, hidden by unknown means.

“Wait...don't I have a say in this?”

They both looked over at Tom, who tensed slightly and then straightened himself up, squaring his shoulders. “On principle,” he added.

“Of course. Name your terms,” Loki said with bemused respect.

“I'd like us to stay friends, Bruce. I'd rather you not disappear and avoid me forever once this is done.”

“...sure. Sure, that's fine.” Bruce nodded, wondering how Tom had guessed his intentions. Had it been so obvious? He wasn't terribly fond of the idea, but he knew that he had to make some concessions if he wanted Loki to keep to his side of the agreement. “Y-you should come by my house sometime. I mean, my house in New Mexico.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Okay.” With a deep sigh, Bruce got up shakily. “Okay, I think we all need a drink. Let's go drink on this. I have some hot water ready for tea in the kitchen, and there's also bottle of brandy. I suppose if you wanted something like a hot toddy, I could make it. I looked up a few recipes...”

“You really thought this through, didn't you?” Loki got up smoothly and helped Tom to his feet, dusting him off carefully. “Sorry about that earlier, Tom. Won't happen again. Anyway, Bruce, you said it was for cherries jubilee.” Loki gave him a knowing look. “I should have known you were up to something. Cherries aren't even in season.”

“Bananas foster then,” Bruce sighed. 

“Actually, bananas foster aren't made with brandy.” Tom noted.

“It was just a bad excuse...” 

“Oh Bruce, you're such a terrible liar...” Loki chuckled.

Bruce shook his head, imagining a lifetime of what amounted to two Lokis running amok through the world and through his life. Though he rarely drank, that brandy was starting to sound kind of good right about now...

*****

Despite being tired and grouchy from their journey, when Bruce walked through the door into his own home, he heaved a sigh of relief that seemed to come from the very core of his being. The stress of travel, the tension of all those days surrounded by curious strangers seemed to slip from his shoulders, and he could feel the strain lifting off of him.

“It's so nice to be home...” Absently, he reached for the light switch and found it stuck in an off position. And then he looked more closely, even the little motes of dust in his house seemed stuck in mid-flight.

“Loki?”

Loki came in, carrying Bruce's duffel bag, setting it down by the front door. “Oh, yes. Of course. The stasis...” He waved, a big showy gesture, and immediately Bruce could sense a difference in the air, as if the room had been holding its breath and suddenly let it all out with a gasp.

“Did...that uh, spell cause any damage?”

“No, not really. Though your house will probably take a day or to to catch up.”

“Catch up?”

“Freezing time and all. If you notice, it's still morning light even though it's nearly sunset.”

“I didn't know you could freeze time.”

“I can't. This was all an illusion.” And then as Loki made a curt motion with his hand, Bruce could smell the skunky scent of dirty dishes gone to mold, and the mustiness of a house that had been closed up too long.

“...Loki...” Bruce took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why...didn't I expect this?”

“What? Did you really think I could stop time?” Loki smirked. “Or should I be flattered that you thought I could?”

“...no, because I should have known better...” Bruce muttered to himself as he stumbled into his bedroom, Lopt twining gracefully between his legs as he walked. “I don't know what I was thinking. Honestly, your dedication and commitment to your craft is unparalleled. But Loki, just...please wash the dishes for me. That's the least you can do. I just can't deal with this right now.”

Loki pretended not to hear as he walked around the house, opening the windows to let in the fresh winter air. Outside it was chilly, but a beautiful clear day. He took a deep breath, catching the scent of snow in the brisk air, and resolved to get a fire started before starting cleaning.

“Loki, the dishes. Please!”

“Yes, yes, Bruce. Right away...” Loki smiled to himself as he stacked a few logs in the fireplace, setting the splintery logs on fire with a basic little spell.

“Wait. Oh, crap, this means everything's gone bad in the fridge. And we didn't stop to get supplies...” Bruce stumbled out of the room. “Jesus, Loki, why do you-”

“Oh, don't worry about that.” Loki walked over, putting a solicitous arm around Bruce's shoulders, giving him a squeeze. “I've got it covered.”

“Exactly how do you-”

Just then, Bruce heard the rattle of a car as it drove up to the house. The door opened and slammed, and immediately a familiar voice called out:

“Bruce? I'm here, and I have your groceries.”

At that, Bruce couldn't help but laugh.

“Come on in, Tom.”


	11. Coda

Waiting was boring. There was a certain reverent hush about the house, the kind that was too tense and too stiff to be comfortably around even for a few minutes, and she had already been here for almost an entire day. It felt like forever. She couldn't play inside or outside without someone complaining about minding her manners, not that there really was anything that fun to play with, so she sat in a big chair and looked through some ancient picture albums. 

Great-Granddad Tom when he was younger was almost unrecognizable; he had always been old as far as she could remember, slightly stooped and white-haired. Here he was a lot younger, in some kind of a stage show with lots of fake blood and makeup on his face, another picture was from the movies when he got really famous...and this was a picture where he was out in the desert somewhere with a short teachery-looking guy who had gray curly hair and glasses, and Great-Granddad was holding up a big orange pumpkin in one arm and a basket of corn in the other. 

Bored, she flipped through until she found her favorite picture of him in India visiting a nature preserve. She loved making him tell her the story about how he had been walking on a trail, and a tiger had come right up to him and almost pounced on him, but then changed its mind at the very last minute. He had told that story with all the voices and the tiger growling and it always made her laugh. She had heard some of the adults say that he had exaggerated the story, but she knew better; it was just that he was the luckiest guy.

There was a gentle knocking at the door. She set down the album and ran up to check because none of the grownups were around at all. 

“Hello.” A tall young man stood at the door, black hair rakishly loose, curling about his ears. He was dressed in all black, and his eyes had a sort of sadness to them that she thought seemed fitting. There was something very familiar about him that she couldn't quite place. “I'm here to see Tom.”

“No one's supposed to come bother him. He's...” and here she whispered, “dying.”

“Yes, I know. I'm an old friend. He knows I'm coming.”

“Okay. But don't tell anyone I let you in, because I'm not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said as she opened the door wide to let him in, “How can you be an old friend? You're not old.”

“It's a long story. Please show me to his room.” She walked him upstairs to the master bedroom. Strangely, none of the adults were around; not even her parents. 

“He's in there. I'm not supposed to go inside, because I might bother him.”

“I'm sure you wouldn't. Go on in and say goodbye, and then I'll come see him.”

“Okay.” She ran in quickly, and gave the old man's hand a squeeze. “Goodbye, Great-Granddad Tom. I'll see you later, okay?”

The hand barely stirred, and she may or may not have heard him say something to her. But it didn't matter; as far as she was concerned it was already over before she had gotten there. She let herself out and back into the hallway where the stranger waited patiently.

“Okay, I guess it's your turn. He's been asleep for a long time.” She nodded, with the expertise she had learned from spying on the doctor. “They say it's a coma.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I won't be long, I promise. Why don't you go downstairs and fetch me a glass of water?” The stranger ruffled her dark curls lightly, and she grinned up at him.  


“Okay.” She disappeared around the bend of the hallway. 

Loki walked in. The room didn't have the antiseptic stink of medicine or the whirr of life-sustaining machinery; it was merely pleasant and shady, with the sweet scent of clean bedding and fresh flowers. A warm afternoon breeze stirred the air in the room and the soft petals of the flowers in a vase.

“You came.” Tom's voice was hoarse from lack of use, but he was awake. It seemed that he had never slept at all, but had been saving up his last energy for this.

“It was a promise.” Loki sat in the bedside chair. “Were you waiting for me long?”

“No, not too long. I told them already that they should stay away. I don't...want anyone else seeing this.”

“Are you looking forward to this?” Loki asked politely, curious, eyes tracing the deep wrinkles and age spots.

“I think so. I'm so tired now...” Tom sighed. “It's hard staying awake. What about you?”

“Oh, I've been looking forward to this for years. But...” Loki looked at his hands, folding and flexing his fingers. “I suppose I'm not really completely happy. After all...you'll be gone.”

“I remember what you said years ago, when we first met...even though I promised to forget. It won't be really dying. I'll still be with you, always...”

Loki looked away, uncomfortable. “I...suppose you're right. Tell me, how was it? What was it like?”

Tom smiled to himself, understanding him completely. “My life? I have no regrets. And as for the rest...you'll find out soon enough.”

Loki managed a smile. “I suppose you're right. 'Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.'”

Tom's laugh was more of a little sound of air than truly a laugh. “A sweet-faced youth? 'Not I, sir; though you are my elder.'”

“'That's a question: how shall we try it?'”

“'We'll draw cuts for the senior: till then lead thou first. '”

“'We came into the world like brother and brother; And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.'” Loki took his hand.

“Thank you, Loki.” Tom closed his eyes.

“No, thank you, Tom.” Loki leaned down and kissed the old man's brow.

*****

By the time she remembered to bring the glass of water back up, the stranger was gone. She opened the door to the master bedroom, and it was empty, but for the corpse. She looked out the window to see if the stranger had somehow snuck out that way, but he hadn't. The big grassy yard was empty, and there wasn't even a car out front.

“Mom? Dad? Great-Granddad's dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tom are quoting from Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors. I imagined the unnamed girl to be a great-grandchild or great-grandniece. I imagine she takes more after Loki in looks than Tom (thus the dark hair).

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for Nami, who someday might just get that fic where Bruce is teaching at university and Loki is his TA. ;)
> 
> It follows The Vardøgr in terms of timeline/logic, but not at all in terms of tone or style.
> 
> Chapter 2: If you go to youtube and search for 'Tom Hiddleston awkward interview' you'll see what Loki and Bruce were watching.
> 
> Chapter 7: Bruce's steak is implied. When Loki turns on the radio, it's Gladys Knight and the Pips: "Midnight Train to Georgia."
> 
> Chapter 8: Unsurprisingly, Tom quotes Henry V to the cat. This chapter could probably be also known as: What Would Orange Cats Do?
> 
> Chapter 9: Bruce and Tom are quoting Christopher Marlowe.
> 
> And of course, thanks to my wonderful prereaders: Nami, Kizu, and Jekka, and whoever else I might have inflicted this on without remembering. Thanks for your help and suggestions!


End file.
